


00000001

by charlieithilin



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-binary character, Vague Spoilers for Chapter 122
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlieithilin/pseuds/charlieithilin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A half-assed and confusing exploration of Juuzou's character and past (please read the tags).</p>
            </blockquote>





	00000001

**Author's Note:**

> this is really, really vague i guess? i'm writing this for myself kind of. i headcanon juuzou as non-binary and they obviously have a great deal of past trauma to deal with, so i'm kind of just channeling my feelings about my own history and gender identity and shifting it to fit a fictional character's. i'm still trying to understand this kid and it helps to think about my own stuff. so yeah. this actually doesn't have anything to do with gender, it's just. stuff. i still feel like i haven't made this chaotic enough, it became more monotone and stark as opposed to more screaming and ripping, i guess. mm. oh well, it works, i think. i needed a break from writing smut fics anyway.

They’d paint their nails red and pin their hair back to match “13’s Jason” and dream about a monstrous old woman with a mallet in her talons ready to sentence them to death. They’d snap a ghoul’s neck and pluck out another’s eyes for fun and feel wrinkled hands carding through their hair. Sometimes, the walls would run red and dry and the mirror would blur and Juuzou would be caught between hair bows and knives and the hive inside of them would shake and seeth for something they couldn’t name.

Anything that swallowed them whole would do. Guts or clothes 4 sizes too big , anything that didn’t spit them back out half-digested and acidic like nasty cake or a one night stand’s semen. Movement would make up for hours spent still as a statue and clothes would cover what remained after that.

They’d make a cocoon if they had the courage, but a demon or half a butterfly might emerge and that would be an absolute disaster. Sometimes they wonder if the red in their eyes is their own, or if screaming would cool the buzzing in their head and the itch in their mouth.

When things would fog over, they’d move and break out of the stillness they’d practiced for years and roar and jump and fly and break till everything was in shambles except for them and that’s when things would be okay again.


End file.
